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Friday, 16 March 2012

Dreamspinner: S.A. Garcia revisits Canes and Scales

I love the idea that much-loved characters will not leave you alone. S.A. Garcia describes how she was plagued by Alasdaire and Linden.

Canes and Scales Revisited

A year later my
first Elf calls to me again in a fine sneak attack.

A year ago I
thought that my star-crossed duo Alasdaire and Linden had found a perfect resolution.
Their story had ended in a fine, fierce love scene set in a beautiful, forested
valley. The characters received a fairy tale happy ending which they deserved
after how I had tormented them. The battered, scarred and close to death pair
managed to survive this evil author’s emotional and physical gauntlet.

Canes and Scales was my first published novella at Dreamspinner Press, wait, my
first published novella anywhere. My gung-ho, damn the torpedoes, pick a cliché,
yeah, it will fit, attitude deterred me from planning in a practical manner. I
thought I had finished telling Alasdaire and Linden’s tormented tale. I gave the
pair a sexy happy ending rolling naked in the grass. What more did the contented
lovers want from me?

Ah, the greedy
pair want a sequel.

Imagine that.

Over the past
months, I’ve tapped out a few fits and starts musing about the noble Halfling
Elf and his royal lover’s future fate. Little random ideas, sketchy chapters,
the usual false starts, fits and whatevers dumped into a file. A feeble plot
outline sat in a lonely new folder occupied by the random ideas.

What the hell, too
many other stories demand my attention. I had finally wrestled my first
contemporary into life. Ouch, I do mean wrestle. Not that I didn’t enjoy the
journey and of course I love my characters, but writing a story sans something
supernatural lurking around the corner seemed weird. Yeah, my problem does
sound silly.

Other
speculative m/m novels sitting on what I call the mental runway want their take
off clearance. One novel is at 60,000 words. Four, maybe five chapters will
complete the novel.

How dare
Alasdaire and Linden try to muscle into the tumultuous wordy action?

Oh, they dare. The
problem is my first published characters understand my soft spots. Alasdaire’s
Elven family history occupies a wonderful labyrinth filled with intrigue and menace.
He knows his back story calls to me. His back story combined with Linden’s
struggles to guide the shattered nation he is now king of create the perfect
mess. Their determined push and pull is epic.

Did I mention danger
and death? This duo thrives on drama.

Alasdaire and
Linden work hard to plead their case. They are my first published, hence they
are special. They have succeeded in driving a seriously huge plow along the
mental runway to push aside other waiting contenders. Alasdaire lets Linden
drive. He’s busy hammering out the next plot twist.

Ouch, the plot
twists they whisper to me are irresistible. The fresh layers of emotional
turmoil intrigue Diva Faboo to wake up and take notice. My drunken muse likes
what she hears from the conflicted lovers. She’s merrily weaving classic gothic
threads with steampunk glitter to create a crazy quilt filled with peril, disaster
and romance.

Yes, tasty
indeed.

Here’s a raw advance
taste fresh from Alasdaire and Linden’s new mess.

Indeed, find who? Neideanire pushed up
from his bored sprawl on the window seat. He arrogantly pushed aside the
slender healer and leaned close to his uncle. “Whom do you want us to find,
Uncle?”

Afratair’s pale fingers curled until one
long-nailed finger pointed at the window. “Alasdaire.”

A shocked murmur rippled through the
listening nobles. Neideanire scowled in disgust. He never wanted to hear that
name uttered in his presence. His rage provoked unwise words. “What? Why should
anyone waste time finding the half breed bastard?”

The furious Afratair pushed up far enough
to slap Neideanire’s sneer from his lips. “H-h-he is my grandson.”

What a sorry truth. Neideanire stepped
back in wary amazement. He had underestimated his dying uncle’s strength. “My sincere
apologies, Uncle. Why do you want him found?”

Rattling breaths hitched Afratair’s narrow
chest. “Find him and… and…bring him to me so I can e-e-e…” Ugly choking halted
the Duke’s words. He collapsed down to the bed. Bloody froth seeped from his
lips.

Yes, Alasdaire and Linden have hijacked my
muse, my time and my life.

I don’t mind it at all. Epic love and loss
deserves its due.

Trouble is the pushy pair also whisper
about a part three. I’ll leave them to battle the seriously angry vampires and
H.P. Lovecraft creature from the 60,000 word WiP.

If you want to read Alasdaire and Linden’s
tale, here’s the link for Canes and Scales and my other Dreamspinner
Press novellas: